The Cat Burglar Affair
by JantoJones
Summary: A Cat Burglar chooses the wrong house.


"Assignment for you," Napoleon Solo announced, as he dropped a file on Illya's desk.

"And it is not even my birthday," Illya replied, before reading the name on the front of the file. "Catherine 'Cat' Felina. Is that her actual name?"

"Apparently so," Solo confirmed. "It seems her parents had a thing for cats, and changed the family name accordingly. From what we have ascertained, Miss Felina is possessed of the same obsession."

Illya opened the file and was struck by the face on the photograph within. The woman in question was twenty-eight years old, with very straight, shoulder length black hair. Her beauty was enhanced by the heavy, Egyptian style, make-up she wore. A quick glance through her profile revealed her to be a prolific housebreaker, but Illya could see no reason why she would be of interest to U.N.C.L.E.

"What does she have to do with us?"

"She a cat burglar," Napoleon told him, enjoying the inevitable eye roll from his partner. "I mean that almost literally. The only things she ever takes from the houses she breaks into are cat-related objects."

"I still do not know why I'm reading her file."

"She chose the wrong house."

U.N.C.L.E. had received information that a statuette, representing the goddess Bastet, had been stolen from a known THRUSH operative. The object was being used as a hiding place to store a microfilm, and THRUSH were seemingly quite keen to retrieve it.

"Do we know what is on the microfilm?" Illya asked.

"Not a clue," answered Napoleon. "We can assume, given their apparent concern, that it is something quite important. You need to visit Miss Felina before the birdies realise it wasn't us who took it."

…

Cat Felina was particularly proud of the Bastet statuette. She had others, but this new one was by far the nicest. Most of her ill-gotten gains were on display around her apartment but she had a special cabinet of any Bastet figure she came across. Carefully rearranging the others, Cat placed the gold, blue and red figure in pride of place. Like the Egyptians of times past, she revered cats, especially this particular cat deity. The goddess Bastet was the mother and protector and, just like she was, the deity was often portrayed as mild-mannered, but dangerous.

Miss Felina had been afforded a privileged, but safe, upbringing. There had been very little excitement in her childhood, until the day one of her friends brought a toy cat into school. Catherine had plenty of them at home, in one form or another, but she really wanted the wooden one belonging to her friend. The thrill of taking it, without the other girl even suspecting it was her, gave Cat a rush she had never known before. That was the beginning of her life of crime. She had been caught on many occasions, but her father's money had always meant she escaped any kind of custodial sentence. Who was he to deny his only child's fun? Cat was pulled from the memory by a knock on the door.

"Can I help you?" she asked the short, unassuming blond man.

"Miss Felina, my name is Illya Kuryakin from the U.N.C.L.E.," he introduced himself, as he showed her his I.D.

"What is that exactly?" Catherine asked, eyeing the man with suspicion.

"The United Network Command for Law and Enforcement," Illya informed her. "I need to ask you about a figure of Bastet you recently stole from a, quite dangerous, man."

The woman tried to slam the door shut on him, but was prevented by Illya slamming his hand against the wood, and forcing it back open.

"Please believe me Miss Felina," Illya continued, as he stepped into the apartment. "The man you robbed will not think twice about killing you in order to retrieve his property. It is in your best interest to give to object to me. I will also take you to a safe house."

"I'm hardly going to go with a man I've never met," Cat replied, fiercely. "For all I know, you might kill me."

"I doubt that," said a new voice.

Both Cat and Illya turned to see two armed men.

"Kuryakin is one of the good guys," the man who'd spoken continued. "I, on the other hand, am not."

Without warning, the Thrushman shot Illya in thigh. The Russian fell with a grunt, but still managed to draw his own weapon. Before he could do anything with it though, it was snatched from his hand and he was viciously kicked in the head.

"I'll take my property back now, Miss Felina."

…

"What kind of person has cells in their basement?"

"You'd be surprised," Illya mumbled.

Cat was sitting, cross-legged, in one corner, while the injured Russian lay on the small cot. Ignoring his grumpy protestations, she had seen to Illya's gunshot wound, and found it was merely a graze. It would be sore, but it wasn't life-threatening. She was still worried about him, though. The kick which had been aimed at his head had been particularly brutal. The man was still dazed, and seemed to be having a little difficulty focusing on things. Despite this, he kept telling her he was fine.

"Are you always this stubborn?" Cat asked, with a smile.

"So my partner informs me."

"Tell me Mr Kuryakin, or may I call you Illya?"

"Please do."

"How much trouble have I got myself into?" she continued. "Who is that man, and why is that Bastet figure so important?"

"His name is . . . erm . . ." Illya struggled to remember the name, but finally reach it through the pounding in his head. "Nagendra."

Somewhat slowly, Illya gave Cat a potted history of U.N.C.L.E and THRUSH, and explained why they needed what was in the figure, rather than the figure itself.

"So, if I'm reading this correctly, we need to get out of here and get the . . . microfilm ? . . before it is taken elsewhere."

"I, not we," countered Illya.

Cat snorted with derision. "The state you're in, you'll need my help. You wouldn't happen to have a lock pick on you?"

Carefully sitting himself up, Illya opened the heel of his shoe and handed her his pick. He watched Cat as she worked on the lock of the cell, and was impressed that she was almost as quick as he was. It wasn't the only thing about her which impressed him. She was beautiful, feisty and obviously courageous. He smiled to himself, and decided that he must have been hanging around Napoleon for too long. Once the cell was unlocked, Cat helped Illya to his feet. He swayed slightly, but still insisted he was fine. As they made their way out of the basement, other than having to incapacitate one guard and steal his weapon, they had no trouble getting to the main areas of the house.

Nagendra was on the telephone in his study when Illya and Cat entered; he had the Bastet figure in his lap. It took him a couple of minutes to realise there was someone there, and that he had a rifle pointed at him.

"I should have realised you would escape," he snarled. "It won't do you any good. I have men all over the house, and I have people coming from Central to retrieve you, Kuryakin."

"We shall be long gone by then," Illya replied, coldly. "Hand over the microfilm."

Nagendra stood, still holding the figure, and walked to the front of his desk.

"You don't look to steady on your feet," he commented.

Illya wouldn't have admitted it out loud, but he was feeling incredibly dizzy and nauseated. He had tried to ignore it, as he'd done many times in the past, but once it was pointed out he couldn't prevent himself from dropping to his knees.

Nagendra made a grab for the weapon, but was stopped by Cat, who punched him in the face. As he stumbled backwards, he dropped the statuette, which shattered into a thousand pieces. Before Nagendra could retrieve the microfilm from the debris, Catherine kneed him under the chin. He fell back heavily against his desk, but had no time to recover, as Cat began to pummel him around the head. While she dealt with the Thrushman, Illya surreptitiously pocketed the microfilm, and started to look around for his confiscated equipment. He finally found it all in a drawer, and was about to fire a sleep dart at Nagendra when Cat landed a knock-out punch.

"Time to go," Illya slurred.

…

A few hours later, Illya was reluctantly released from medical, with strict instructions to rest for a couple of days. Following a brief search, he found Cat in the commissary with Napoleon. Solo's body language broadcast to the world that he was hitting on the woman. Catherine's, whilst friendly, clearly indicated she wasn't interested in the brunet. Illya suppressed a smug smirk and joined them at their table. Cat's body language instantly transformed. Napoleon looked at his partner sourly; he never liked it when he lost out to Illya.

"Did you get the microfilm analysed?" The Russian asked, as he sat down.

"Yes. It was full of lots of lovely details about THRUSH's North Africa operations," Napoleon told him. "Miss Felina has been telling me of her adventure. It seems she was the one who rescued you."

"It was predestined," Illya answered, enigmatically.

"What do you mean, Illya?" Cat asked, in a tone which sent both men's pulses racing.

"In Egyptian mythology, the goddess Bastet defeated the serpent god, Apophis," he explained. "The name Nagendra is an Indian name meaning 'Lord of Snakes'."

Without saying a word, Cat leant over and kissed Illya on the cheek. He immediately flushed bright red, but couldn't help but enjoy the expression of disapproval on Napoleon's face.


End file.
